Perfect Happiness
by oncethrown
Summary: Someone needed Angelus for something. And Angelus hated being used. But He'd deal with that later. Angel had been depriving him of his pleasures for too long. It was Angelus's turn now. And he wanted to really hurt someone.


Only a moment of perfect happiness. All it takes to go back to living in true happiness, Angelus crowed to himself as he finished draining the convenience store owner.

He dropped the man's body to the floor with a satisfying thud before smashing the glass case behind the counter and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He lovingly slid one out and grabbed a lighter from the stand on the counter. He pulled the drag in deep, savoring it.

"That first smoke after losing your soul," he sighed to no one in particular.

He tucked the pack and the lighter in his pocket as he strutted out the door, leather jacket flapping behind him. Someone had hired that mage. Someone had ordered the spell that had freed him of that pesky soul pathetic old Angel was always whining about. Which could only mean one thing. Someone needed Angelus for something. And Angelus _hated_ when people thought they could use him.

Maybe later tonight he'd go to Wolfram and Hart and start killing people until he'd been told whose brilliant plan his desouling had been, or until they were all dead, whichever seemed like more fun when he got there.

But first he had real hungers to satisfy. Angel had been starving him of his pleasures for far too long. It was Angelus's turn now.

And he wanted to _really_ hurt someone.

* * *

"He still working?" Gunn asked Cordelia as he dropped the bag of Chinese food on the counter. Cordelia dug into it with a sigh, pulling out a carton of Moo Goo Gai Pan and plunging chopsticks into it before she replied.

"Oh yeah, he's still working. He's worked himself into a frenzy over this Angel vision."

"Mmhmm," Gunn muttered as he pulled his own dinner out of the paper bag, "There's a surprise."

Cordelia flashed him a look, "I told him hours ago that it didn't seem dire and that there's nothing even… The feelings I got from the visions were, you know. Relaxed. Happy almost," She finished chewing, "But you know how Wes gets."

"Yeah," Gunn scoffed, "We all know how Wes gets."

Cordelia made a sound of exasperated agreement through her full mouth. Gunn began trying to work his chopsticks and dropped a shrimp on the counter with a groan. Cordelia snatched it up with her own chopsticks.

"See, now that ain't fair."

"There are forks in the drawer under the coffee pot," Cordelia smirked at him, popping the shrimp in her mouth.

"I don't need a fork. I can do this."

"Give up while you're ahead, Gunn," a voice intoned from just behind him. Gunn jumped, dropping another shrimp on the counter.

"Do you _have_ to do that? You can't stomp or hum or slam the door or something? Sneaky-ass vampire."

"Sorry," Angelus grinned. One thing to be said about Angel-- he made coming back more fun. So many connections and bonds and loyalties and relationships. All the groundwork already laid for a really _satisfying_ kill. Cordelia, Gunn, Wesley…this was going to be more fun than the little blonde slayer. Maybe even more fun than Drusilla.

Gunn turned back to the counter to see Cordelia smirking at him again, shrimp in her chopsticks.

"Fine. I'm getting a fork."

"Wes still in the office?" Angel asked them.

"Exactly where he was when you left, still looking for the answer to the big scary vision about you standing not that close to a big blue light that didn't seem to be doing you any harm," Cordelia sighed leaning over to look through the window into Wesley's office, where the boss was laying across his desk, one arm sprawled out over his head, face down on a book, "Well, he was more awake when you left."

"Did you find anything out?" Gunn asked, spearing one of Cordelia's carrots with his fork and sticking his tongue out at her.

"Nah," Angel replied, "Source never showed."

"Really?" Cordelia asked, "You've been gone like all night."

"Thought I'd go looking for him, but no luck."

"That sucks," Cordelia sighed, peering into Wes's window again, "Should we bring him his dinner or should we let him sleep?"

"If we wake him up without any news he's just going to go straight back to work," Gunn pointed out.

Angelus couldn't help but smirk as he picks up the carton of hot Chinese food.

"Guy's gotta eat," he said.

"Wait," Cordelia grabbed his shoulder and Angelus caught a whiff off of her without the mask of sauce and fried vegetables. Maybe he'd save her for last. She handed him a fork.

"He's worse than Gunn."

Angelus strolled into Wesley's office, closing the door and shutting the shade behind him. He took in the sleeping man like a painter preparing his canvas- deciding where to start. He set the carton and the fork gently on the desk and stood behind Wesley, listening to him breathe steadily into the wrinkled browning pages of his big, boring book.

Angelus wrapped a hand around the base of Wesley's skull and began to squeeze, massaging the knots along Wesley's neck- boy was wound even tighter than Angel had thought. No wonder he'd had the big pity for this guy. All work, no play, no hope -- working himself to exhaustion for a reward he must know he'd never receive.

Angelus continued massaging, moving up and down Wesley's neck until he could feel Wesley's breathing deepen further. He started muttering in his sleep and Angelus listened intently for a moment before he realized it was jibberish. A vowel here, a couple jumbled consonants there. Useless.

He squeezed- hard- and Wesley woke up with a sound somewhere between a snuffle and a yawn. Like the sound a dog makes while chasing something in its dreams.

"Rise and shine, Wes," Angelus said quietly, brushing his fingers down to Wes's shoulder and onto the desk.

"Sorry, must've… dozed," Wesley muttered, his hand straying to the back of his neck as he sat up, "How did your meeting with your source go?" He checked his watch self-conciously.

"She didn't know anything," Angelus sighed, absently flipping the pages of the book in front of Wesley.

"But you were gone for six and a half hours," Wesley replied pushing his askew glasses back into place.

"Well… "Angelus fluttered his fingers against the desk, easing the smallest touch of languor into his voice "I didn't want to make it seem like I'd just dropped by to cash in a favor so I didn't start asking questions right away."

"Of course," Wesley cleared his throat, "No need to alienate allies."

Jealousy. Sweet smell. Less than remarkable taste.

"Brought you dinner," Angelus said, consciously leaving the languor in his voice. He pulled the carton across the desk, noticing all the same things that Angel noticed and tried so hard to be careful about.

Bringing Wesley dinner had flustered him- Angel would've had Cordelia do it. Angel had noticed that Wesley had started to avoid touching his hands, so Angelus was forcing Wesley to take the carton from his hand. Angel had also noticed the way Wesley looked at him. The way Wesley didn't look at him. And Angel, no fun do-gooder that he was, hadn't done _anything_ about it.

"Thank you," Wesley said, opening it and grabbing the fork from the desk before Angel could hand that to him as well.

"So," Angelus spread a hand out next to the open book Wesley had been asleep on moments ago, "How has the research been going?"

"Not well, I'm afraid," Wesley answered. The scent of jealously kicked up into nervousness, "Cordelia's vision featured humans casting some sort of spell, so it's unlikely that they will turn up in a bunch of hundred year old books and-" Angelus leaned his weight onto his hand, closer to Wesley, hovering over him, but not touching. He was rewarded with a slight hitch in Wesley's breathing, quiet and covered quickly, but not quickly or quietly enough.

"And," Wesley continued, "The person in the vision was just in a black robe and without a symbol or a distinguishing characteristic to go by-"

Angelus flipped the book shut impatiently, "Don't worry about it, Wes. Take a break. Eat dinner. Relax. We know it's coming, we'll be on the lookout," He ran his hand up Wesley's arm and squeezed his shoulder before leaning against the desk, casually invading the man's space.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Wesley asked, watching Angel out of the corner of his eye as Angel lounged against the desk, "You seem-- nothing happened?"

"Just the meeting. Got a little air."

"Okay," Wesley started picking at his lo mein, Angel watched him.

"Actually, I am a little wired," Angelus told him, "You want to grab a sword, go at it in the basement for a while?"

Wes stopped chewing for a moment, then flicked his eyes away from Angel and down to his dinner before swallowing and speaking into his lo mein-

"I should probably keep researching. We're still mired as square one."

"Come on, Wes," Angelus nudged Wesley's brown loafers with his own black patent leathers, "I need to blow off steam. You said there were a couple of moves you wanted me to teach you," Angelus wheedled.

Wesley looked up at him, and Angelus heard that his heart beat had sped up, without a flutter, without a kick, just slid from one rate to another.

"Alright, just let me finish… these," Wesley lifted his carton of Chinese food and pointed to one of the less cracked and weathered books on his desk, "And I'll be right down."

Yeah. This wasn't even going to be hard. Angelus gave the just-woken man Angel's big stupid puppy dog grin and gently open-handed him on the shoulder again as he left the office.

"How is he?" Cordelia asked from behind the computer.

"He seems edgy," Angelus responded, "We're gonna spar. What are you guys doing?"

"Looking up magic groups in the area, and locations, members or activities that connect them to Wolfram and Hart," Gunn said.

"Finding anything?"

"A lot of girls with vivid daydreams who are going to buy a bra with a breath of relief within the next five years," Cordelia responded.

Yeah… he would definitely have to save her for last, Angelus decided. Breaking a girl like that was a challenge not to be tossed aside. Wesley was quickly becoming an appetizer.

"Well, if anything exciting comes up, come get me," Angelus said doing his best to sound serious and concerned about the safety of a bunch of innocents.

"You sure you're alright?" Cordelia asked.

"Just a little wired," Angelus repeated, "Like I've been cooped up too long."

"We'll make sure to send Wesley down."

* * *

The amygdala is the part of the brain that allows you to push emotions to the back of your mind and think about something else.

Wesley was pretty sure that _just_ his amygdala hurt. He'd certainly been overtaxing it since he took this job. Shutting down the fear of death in order to avoid being killed. Shutting down his annoyance with Cordelia in order to deal with her while he got used to her.

And then there were things that he made sure his poor throbbing amygdala didn't even let him think about. Like his body's reaction to a phrase as poorly thought out as "grab a sword and go at it." Like the smell of vampire, which is mostly the smell of soap, with a little bit of dust and blood underneath. Like about how upset he got when Cordelia's vision was about Angel or about the sad knowing look that Cordelia gave him when she popped her head into his office to ask what he wanted for dinner.

Maybe he did need a life, he thought to himself as he poked at the last of his lo mein. Some nice woman, some random bar girl, to take his mind off of all this.

_Because it worked so well with the bleach blonde from the bar and Virginia_, he sniped at himself.

He gulped down the last of his lo mein and pushed his chair back from the desk, carving his hand through his hair as he walked out into the lobby.

"Any luck Wes?" Cordelia asked him with a tight careful smile.

"No. Nothing. Nil. Possibly squat," Wesley answered, wondering why his voice was so breathy, "I'm going to go spar with Angel. Blow off some steam."

"Steam. Right," Gunn said.

Wesley heard the smack of Cordelia's hand against the back of Gunn's bald head as soon as he was out of sight. He also heard "what was that for" and a shushing. He pushed it to the back of his mind.

He stopped at the basement door and set his forehead against it. It was cool. He took a deep breath, imagined himself breathing into the amygdala, healing breaths, and then opened the door to see Angel.

Doing Tai Chi.

Smiling at him.

Shirtless.

His amygdala groaned.

"Hey, Wes," Angel called up to him, "Thought you forgot about me."

Wesley laughed awkwardly and walked down the stairs, barely catching the quarter staff that Angel threw at him.

"Where do you want to st-"

And Angel attacked him. Wesley's quarter staff flew up in defense. The crack from the quarter staves meeting seemed deafening. Angel laughed and attacked again, sweeping his staff at Wesley's legs. Wes jumped, dodging, and brought his staff down toward Angel's shoulder as he landed.

"Come on Wes," Angel smirked, as he swung Wesley's staff away, "Don't hold back!"

Concentrate Wesley, he told himself, doing his best to push his worries about the vision, his worries about Angel, to the back of his mind. Swing, parry, swing--Cordelia bloody well knows--block, swing, thrust—and so does Gunn- -swing, block, thrust, swing—concentrate!

He aimed a swing for Angel's head, got too close and tried to pull the hit, and Angelus caught Wesley's quarter staff with his own and swung it up, pulling Wesley with him. Wesley was stunned to find himself suddenly pinned between the wall and Angel's bare chest. A sound caught in Wesley's throat , somewhere between a gasp and a moan, and he had just enough time to hope it came off as just being out of breath before Angel pulled back.

"Don't hold back, Wes," Angel barked. It didn't sound like an encouragement anymore. That was a threat. Wesley barely managed to block the fresh attack.

This is too easy, Angelus thought to himself, watching the Englishman's desperation as Angelus worked him up. He could smell the fear, the arousal. Hear the blood pumping harder and hotter in his veins. He started fighting Wesley back against the other wall.

"Careful Angel," Wesley panted, "I can't keep up."

Angelus knocked Wesley's staff out of his hands, dropped his own, and pinned his prey to the wall, pressing his hips into Wesley's, his hands against his shoulders.

"Seems to me you're _keeping up_ just fine, Wes," Angelus snarled into his ear. He lowered his face to Wesley's neck and inhaled.

Wesley tried to speak, but had a couple of false starts before he managed, "What are you talking about?" He tried to slide along the wall, out of the vampires grip, but Angelus grabbed him by the hips and slammed him back against the wall. Wesley let out a sound this time that couldn't possibly be taken for anything but a moan. He squirmed appetizingly against Angelus's hands, trying to get away, but not trying that hard. Angelus moved his face from Wesley's neck to his ear, feeling the slighter man getting harder as he purred, "Do you really think I don't know?"

Wesley found himself beyond excuses, defenses or coherency as Angel groped his hands from Wesley's hips to his shoulders, and Angelus found the smell of fear and arousal wafting off of him downright intoxicating. He gripped Wesley tighter by the shoulders, and pulled back from him, pressing Wesley into the wall just hard enough to hurt, holding his own face tauntingly close, feeling the machine gun rat-tat-tatting of Wesley's heart spike higher as Angel moved his lips closer.

"Angel?" Wes breathed. Angel froze in front of him, millimeters away from kiss that Wesley spent half his days and nights thinking about and the other half of them trying not to think about. Wesley cursed himself for getting this close and screwing it up. He made an embarrassingly audible sound of disappointment as Angel pulled back.

Then Angel's lips twisted themselves into a smirk.

"Wrong,"

Wesley watched, too stunned to move as Angel's features contorted, his brow raised, his eyes yellowed and his fangs appeared.

"Not the kind of hickey you were hoping for huh, Wes?" Angel sneered before plunging his teeth into Wesley's neck. Wesley never imagined his reaction to a vampire bite would be total paralysis. His arms hung limp at his sides, his legs flailed uselessly under him. He felt utterly numb except for the feeling of the teeth buried in his neck and the blood rushing out of his body.

"Angel! We found a connection," Cordelia's voice sounded so far away, "to Wolfram and Hart, they've got a- oh my god-"

Wesley felt the teeth leave his neck, his head crash against the wall, and his back scrape against it as he crumpled to the floor.

"Cordy get back," Gunn yelled.

"Cordelia. Gunn. Sorry to be so rude- eating and running like this," Angelus crowed, "Things to do, you know. But don't worry. I'll be back."

Angelus ran to the sewer access in the corner of the basement and dove down it. Cordelia and Gunn rushed down to Wesley, each ducking under an arm and pulling him up between them.

"Wes? You okay?" Cordelia asked, "Wes?"

Wesley could only sort of hear them, he wondered blandly if it was blood loss or shock that kept him from being able to answer. Didn't seem that important.

"He's real pale," Gunn groaned, "Come on man, you there?" Gunn tapped his palm against Wesley's stomach.

I wish they wouldn't touch me, Wesley heard somewhere in his head.

"Let's get him to a hospital," Cordelia said.

"Hospital's a public place, we gonna need stakes, holy water, crosses the whole enchilada to keep him safe there."

"I'll grab it all," Cordelia shifted Wesley's entire weight to Gunn as they reached the top of the stairs, "You haul him out to your truck."

She ducked behind the Hyperion's counter and emerged with a duffle bag.

"You already had all of that packed?" Gunn demanded.

"Is now the best time to be wondering why?" Cordelia spat, "I think about this happening every day."

"Every day," Wesley echoed, then started to chuckle mirthlessly, "Every, _bloody_, day."

Cordelia and Gunn exchanged a worried look, as Wesley's creepy laugh kept going, and bustled him outside and into Gunn's truck, lead footing it all the way to the hospital.


End file.
